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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632632">so what's the deal with airplane food?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboymeat/pseuds/cowboyflesh'>cowboyflesh (cowboymeat)</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/rockerboytoy'>rockerboytoy (lambmeat)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Overwatch (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Airplane Sex, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Genderplay, M/M, Undercover Missions, housewife fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:54:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27632632</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboymeat/pseuds/cowboyflesh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambmeat/pseuds/rockerboytoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>McCree’s fingers fidget with the hem of his skirt, trying to keep the material taut and erase the visage of his erection tenting the fabric. It’s near impossible, seeing as he’s almost entirely hard, thanks to Reyes’ leering and groping. Gabriel’s fingers edge up higher, towards the end of the silky, sheer stocking and towards the exposed stretch of shaved thigh.</p><p>“Is it not lady-like?” Reyes taunts, raising an eyebrow before raising both as he catches McCree’s furious blushing. He hums thoughtfully, teasing the edge of the stocking between his fingers. Retracting his hand, he loops his arm around the younger’s waist and easily drags McCree around the arm of the chair. He's seated perfectly with his back straight against Reyes’ chest. </p><p>“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” he says, voice smooth and purring in the attendant’s ear.</p><p>“No, sir."</p><p>“Good girl,” Gabriel praises. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jesse McCree/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>so what's the deal with airplane food?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Why did I get stuck with <em> this?” </em>McCree grumbles under his breath, just loud enough for the pilot to hear. It warrants a scoff, and the warm palm splayed at the small of his back only offers a patronizing pat as a passenger walks by them. The woman and child glance his direction and grin in customary acknowledgement, handling their luggage without issue and requesting no assistance.</p><p>The hand on his body is a symbol of courtesy, nothing but, more it makes McCree antsy. It feels domestic, like it’s speaking too much about him and the other man’s relationship. Shuffling in place, smoothing the creases out of the navy blue pencil skirt required by the airline dress code, he tries to hide the sounds of his heels clicking nervously against the metal entry way of the pilot’s cabin. </p><p>A nervous flight attendant is not a good look.</p><p>Moira passes the two, throwing a deliberate glance at McCree that seemed to lord the situation over his head. She escorts an elderly gentleman to his seat with saccharine kindness, and extends a cloying grin at him from across the cabin. He’s never going to hear the end of this.</p><p>Reyes’ hand slides off Jesse’s body, coming up to adjust his pressed tie and pull his suit jacket free from his body. It’s neatly decorated with all of his true medals, something that he very rarely cares to talk about or show off. </p><p>A war is a war and to him, and he’s conscious of the fact that he wasn’t the only soldier. Using them for a faux role as a military pilot is the best purpose he could think for them past paperweights. If they get lost or damaged, it is no skin off his nose and he’d sleep just fine at night.</p><p>The navy blue of the sport coat matches that of McCree’s skirt and hat, while the white dress shirt parallels the white blouse that was required of flight attendants. It does make Reyes look damn fine, even if that is simply because it’s something outside his tactical gear and his typical sweatshirt and combat fatigues.</p><p>McCree feels more like a show pony than anything useful. His horseshoes shiny and loud as he trots to and fro the cabin, trained to hold his head up high and ignore the offending eyes that leer and pull him apart for his appearance.</p><p>Glancing back at his stoic pilot, he isn’t even warranted a glance for his plight.</p><p>“If you read the files and attended the briefings,” the pilot says dryly, “you could’ve traded roles with Genji.”</p><p>“You’re a real ass,” McCree mutters bitterly. </p><p>“Makes two.”</p><p>McCree rolls his eyes. At least Gabriel’s yet to notice the shoddy shaving job he managed to accomplish, rushed and sloppy as the typically benign two-hour chore was reduced to all of fifteen minutes. Or perhaps Gabriel has, and now he can imagine the disappointment rolling off him in waves as they stand side by side with an air of empty love— McCree the despondent wife sticking with the distant husband for a sense of security.</p><p>Of course he didn’t read the mission files, only glanced through them to find the face of their target and skim the objectives to know what was expected of him—well, <em> most </em>of what was expected of him.</p><p>McCree understands that it’s another bullshit lesson in humility, or adaptability, or whatever the fuck. Teaching him that he really oughta learn to read mission statements and attend at least one meeting prior to a mission.</p><p>The only thing it is instilling is an ever-increasing sense of frustration as each movement makes the stockings catch against the hairs he missed. Bare legs aren’t allowed, as it’s ‘uncouth.’ The airline demands everyone in a set position to wear the same uniform, regardless of gender, and banned body hair and exposed skin in the sake of professionalism. </p><p>And much to McCree’s chagrin, this is the only airline their target seems to frequent.</p><p>McCree, however, feels that he looks every bit a fool. The skirt is just a tad bit too short, riding above his knees a fair bit more than what the other attendants allow in their very particular images. The blouse is comfortable, fortunately, being loose in the chest, but lacks buttons to close the open space above his collarbones. It’s only accentuated further by the silly little ribbon he had to tie around his throat, something he had to (embarrassingly) request his commander to help him with as soon as he stepped onto the plane.</p><p>What he thought Reyes meant by his passing comment in the headquarters hanger about learning to tie a tie on the flight over was something entirely different than reality. He took it too traditionally.</p><p>Pulled from his thoughts rather unpleasantly, McCree is forced to take a half-step back as a bumbling idiot with a suitcase twice the size of his young child tries to swing his way through the plane. It forces him to press against Reyes, who doesn’t relent any space for his benefit, in order to evade a nasty bruise from the suitcase’s wheels knocking his shins.</p><p>His commander and pilot holds him steady, hand bracing against his hip and keeping him in place as the passenger wreaks havoc down the aisle, much to the displeasure of the other travellers and flight attendants.</p><p>At first, Jesse doesn’t really take stock in how close the two have become, simply distracted by saving his legs from destruction and mentally assaulting the man for his clumsiness all while remaining superficially calm and collected. It’s only when Reyes’ hand migrates from his hip to his ass does he notice, and it makes him stiffen.</p><p>“Uh, boss?”</p><p>Gabriel’s thumb sweeps down the soft swell of his body that stretches the fabric of his skirt taut, humming deep in his chest, unreadable. McCree blushes, knowing better than to draw attention to themselves in any circumstance, but he can’t help but go wide-eyed as he looks for wandering glances in their direction.</p><p>“What are you—” McCree starts to hiss.</p><p>“Garters,” Gabriel says simply, feeling the line of the underwear beneath his skirt with his thumb, “good choice.” </p><p>McCree opens his mouth to say something, anything, but an elderly couple boards slowly, confused at the ruckus already occurring as the oblivious traveller reluctantly hands his suitcase over to an attendant to be stored properly.</p><p>“Help them to their seat if you would, Jesse,” Reyes says, using his (comparatively) overly-sweet pilot voice. He is still just as commanding, demanding attention in stature and demeanor, but there is a strange element of warmness that is absent in his typical role. </p><p>Jesse’s mouth is left partially agape as he processes what just transpired, and the rumble of a cleared throat brings attention to their proximity. </p><p>“Come to the cockpit once you’re done.”</p><p>The ambiguity of the statement hangs in the air, weighing it down like a stone as the attendant moves to help the remainder of the passengers along. It’s a cross between the apprehension of being called to the principal’s office in grade school and the confused arousal of his lover’s lingering touch on his back.</p><p> </p><p>As the final person  is seated and the commander chimes in over the intercoms to remind passengers to buckle their seatbelts, Jesse is still aware enough of his surroundings despite the razor burn irritating his thighs to notice that their target is absent from the rows and rows of crowded, impatient human cargo. It doesn’t bode well for the mission, to say the very least. </p><p>As instructed, once the plane has taken off and risen to cruising altitude, he reports to the cockpit with his tail between his poorly-shaven legs, bracing himself for whatever irritation would turn Reyes’ false-sweetness bitter in the face of a mission failure. </p><p>As he enters, the commander is already on the phone with someone, voice lowered to an angry growl as he’s informed that his days upon days of work are gone up in flame as a result of a single missed alarm. From what Jesse can glean, the entire leg of the mission is a bust, solely because their target failed to catch their flight due to oversleeping. </p><p>The line clicks closed, and Gabriel hides his face in his hands, scrubbing his freshly-trimmed beard and rubbing his eyes as he comes to terms with his wasted efforts. The wrinkles in the immaculate sport coat are dramatic, emphasizing the distress Reyes is experiencing to go so far as to crease the fabric. </p><p>“Boss?”</p><p>“Jesse,” he sighs, sitting upright again to maintain at least some semblance of professionalism. “The mission’s done. He had to take another flight.”</p><p>“That’s what I was ‘fraid of,” McCree huffs, coming up to stand beside his forlorn commander, if anything, to offer his company in lieu of futile consolation. It happens from time to time, but that doesn’t erase the sour bite of defeatism and nihilism where the question of <em> what was the point </em>? haunts the trip back to headquarters. </p><p>Reyes glances over the vast array of gizmos and gadgets McCree could never dream of wrapping his head around. He knows how to pilot, having been trained in the era before total aerial automation. Reyes’ entire role is, in essence, a familiar image and peace of mind for the more weary travellers, those not too trusting of automation post-war. That isn’t to say that there is no AI integration, simply that it was limited as far as the norm for the time. </p><p>“Didn’ see him anywhere,” McCree says quietly, “or anyone affiliated.”</p><p>“So you did look at the files?” Reyes deadpans, dry humor thick like a layer of dust over his frustration.</p><p>“Only the pictures,” he says, grinning down at him as he leans against the pilots seat.</p><p>“Of course,” Reyes says, and his voice is minutely lighter. The younger’s company was always appreciated when things went awry in his life, albeit in missions or in his own personal ventures, as he seemed to understand just how to carry the tune of conversation without it picking at Reyes’ exposed nerves. Sings what Gabriel needs most, and can keep in time.</p><p>He can sing, that’s for sure.</p><p>Reyes’ eyes slide from the control panels to McCree, who is gazing out the cabin windows with reverence shining in his eyes. It’s not typical for Reyes to masquerade as a pilot, so while they get to fly, they usually steer clear of the cockpit and let the AI systems handle it instead.</p><p>Then his eyes slide down lower, to the thigh neatly propped up on the chair’s armrest. He’s never stopped scolding Jesse for being so unprofessional as to rest on equipment that isn’t theirs, but the sliver of garter that it allows him to see keeps him from saying anything. </p><p>Their relationship has been kept casual, although that’s been getting harder and harder to maintain the more he’s around the younger. Not for worse. Jesse just has… certain qualities about him that make Reyes absolutely unable to think of anything else. Charm and quick-wit drew him in, and while he never gave McCree much thought in terms of intellectual conversation given his at times immature demeanor, he’s well-rounded from his own world-experiences and the education available to agents, and what he didn’t know he was content to listen to learn.</p><p>He doesn’t know the depth of McCree’s own interest in him, so he hasn’t been one to push their casual endeavors further.</p><p>Chewing the inside of his cheek, Reyes reaches out and runs a hand down the thigh exposed to him. Given the position that McCree was standing in, his skirt rode even higher, inappropriately so. It revealed the meat of his thigh and all the muscle he’s worked up over the years, something that Reyes’ did good in complimenting.</p><p>The contact draws McCree’s attention to him. Out of sight, away from the public view, McCree doesn’t fluster as easily, although a light blush does cross his cheeks as he catches Reyes eyeing him up, coupled with the light groping. He raises an eyebrow down at his commander, but doesn’t budge. Rather, turns back to the sky whipping past them and the land he can see through the clouds. Acting coy.</p><p>Reyes takes the lack of dissent as a green light, and throws a glance back at the cockpit door to ensure that it has been locked. Such a short flight demanded no copilot, so as long as he’s got half an eye on things, he’d have a couple hours’ worth of free time to vent his frustrations without interruption. </p><p>“It’s a shame they don’t require attendants to wear lipstick, too. I’d like to see it smudged after you’re done sucking me off.”</p><p>Gabriel isn’t known for his tact, opting instead for harsh delivery of truth and bluntness and relying on his bulk to back up his words. Even so, he tends on the quieter side in intimacy, only spitting a bit of degradation if the scenario calls for it and otherwise opting for muted groans or sighs of pleasure hissed in his partner’s ear. The directness catches the attendant off-guard. </p><p>“I was gonna suck you off?”</p><p>“You’re acting like I haven’t seen you stealing glances at my cock since we boarded. I’m not a fool.”</p><p>McCree snorts, and it earns him the beginnings of a smile that cracks at Reyes’ cheeks. From anyone else, the between-the-lines insult would inflame Gabriel’s temper like none other, but it warms his chest instead. <em> Fuck </em>, maybe he is a fool. </p><p>“So what if I have?”</p><p>The commander-turned-pilot’s fingers casually drift up Jesse’s thigh, and the edges of his skirt flutter with an involuntary shudder. His own breath puffs out, a halfhearted chuckle. </p><p>“Boss, you sure this is where we should be doin’ this?”</p><p>“Depends on what we’re doing. There’s plenty of room for you to fit between my legs down there.”</p><p>“I mean, what if someone hears us?”</p><p>Reyes’ eyes wander back up the length of McCree’s body, away from where the attention is causing a rise in the thick skirt material, and watches his agent’s face. “Hasn’t stopped you before. Not when we were heard in the showers, and not when we got caught ‘sparring’ after hours. Why are you all shy now?”</p><p>Flushing red, McCree looks anywhere but Reyes. Bashful. </p><p>He’s not wrong, seeing as they’ve developed a track record of getting caught in particular predicaments. His face warms a little more, thoughts catching over how he emphasized the lie that it was, <em> sparring, </em> and the memory attached <em> .  </em></p><p>At least in the showers, there was a layer of anonymity, seeing as they were only heard and it is open speculation as to who was doing what in the showers. But it’s much harder to hide the truth when an agent is caught, pinned beneath the bulk of his commander, shorts and underwear hanging off one foot as his eyes lull into the back of his head—</p><p>McCree’s fingers fidget with the hem of his skirt, trying to keep the material taut and erase the visage of his erection tenting the fabric. It’s near impossible, seeing as he’s almost entirely hard, thanks to Reyes’ leering and groping. Gabriel’s fingers edge up higher, towards the end of the silky, sheer stocking and towards the exposed stretch of shaved thigh.</p><p>Shifting just so, he allows Reyes to hitch his skirt up a little higher.</p><p>“Ah,” McCree mumbles, “I… I dunno.”</p><p>He really can’t verbalize what it is about wearing a skirt that makes it all the more exhilarating and daring to him. Reyes is right; he wouldn’t have cared in any other instance, but he wouldn’t be dressed up all prim and proper. He’s attempting to remain demure and mannerly as his job description called for while his commander eyes him like a hunk of meat. </p><p>“Is it not <em> lady-like </em>?” Reyes taunts, raising an eyebrow before raising both as he catches McCree’s furious blushing. He hums thoughtfully, teasing the edge of the stocking between his fingers.</p><p>Retracting his hand, he loops his arm around the younger’s waist and easily drags McCree around the arm of the chair, moving them around to face the cabin door to allow for more room. He can feel the hitch of Jesse’s breath as he’s gracefully pulled into the pilot’s lap, seated perfectly with his back straight against Reyes’ chest. </p><p>“Wouldn’t want that, would we?” he says, voice smooth and purring in the attendant’s ear. McCree’s breath leaves him shakily, watching as Reyes’ hands play with the edge of his skirt. </p><p>“No, sir,” he says quietly, ankles crossing neatly where they dangle just-so above the cockpit floor. </p><p>“Good girl,” Gabriel praises. </p><p>The fingers toying with the hem of the skirt along Jesse’s thigh drifts up, not providing nearly enough stimulation to do anything but tease mercilessly. The proximity, with the agent’s ass practically molded against his lap, allows McCree a real-time observation of how Gabriel’s already-impressive cock fills out further under the right attention.</p><p>“Fuck,” the attendant whimpers under his breath. Reyes’ free hand grips roughly at his thigh.</p><p>“<em> Language </em>,” he hisses. The sudden shift elicits a twitch of interest on Jesse’s part, the millisecond-long rustle of skirt an obscenity hanging in the air. “Else I’ll have to punish you.”</p><p>Jesse’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. </p><p>“You’d probably like that, though. Last time I pushed you down on your knees, all I had to do was talk to you mean and you came in your panties without me touching. Remember?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” he huffs. “Please?”</p><p>“Wan’ me to fuck your pretty little throat?”</p><p>“Sir—”</p><p>“Down.”</p><p>Obediently, Jesse first rises on shaky legs, turning and adjusting so his skirt skimpily hides the swell of his ass from the slight chill of the cabin air. He peers through his lashes at the pilot, looking the spitting image of innocence on his haunches for the older man apart from his arousal holding the front of the skirt to his belly.</p><p>Words begin to form on his reddened, spit-lick lips, but he’s interrupted as Gabriel takes a handful of the hair that had begun loosening itself from its hair tie and thrusts McCree’s face against the hard outline of his cock in his pristine slacks. Nostrils full of the heavy, sweet note of the commander’s musk, he barely processes the words that fall on his ears.</p><p>“I shouldn’t let my housewife go around looking like <em> this </em>, should I? You’re sloppy.”</p><p>“No sir,” he murmurs, vibrations of his voice adding strain in Reyes’ slacks. </p><p>“What do you think I should do? Did you earn my cum?”</p><p>Breath hot against Gabe’s thigh, he nods with the miniscule amount of slack he’s given in his hair. A chuckle wells in the pilot’s throat. “So desperate for it, Jess.”</p><p>He doesn’t give a verbal response; rather, the attendant’s hands hurry to unbutton and unzip Reyes’ pants, then free him through the front of his briefs. The length stands proud, heavy and cherry-red at the tip from the muffled attention. Already, precum drools from his head and has visibly stained a spot on his underwear.</p><p>McCree doesn’t waste a moment. Leaning in, he presses his soft lips beneath the head. Almost sweetly, he leaves little kisses all the way up before kitten-licking the precum from Reyes’ slit. It’s sharp, tangy with salt, and distinct.</p><p>The rough hand in his hair turns gentle, sweeping the hair out of Jesse’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear as Gabriel rumbles. </p><p>“You were made to be on your knees for me,” he muses, hand trailing down to McCree’s lips, pillowed beneath the head in a lover’s kiss. Pressing his thumb against them, his eyes crinkle in amusement as Jesse tilts his head to suckle on it without further prompt. </p><p>“You like being daddy’s kitten?”</p><p>All he can do is huff, desperate and pleading, edging on a whine.</p><p>“That’s my girl. Open.”</p><p>Immediately, McCree lets his jaw drop open and sticks his pink tongue out expectantly, neglecting the thumb in favor of a greater prize. Carding his fingers through McCree’s hair again, Reyes angles his cock into his attendant’s eager maw, sliding the tip through the ample spit pooled in the dip of his tongue. </p><p>Eyes half-hooded, McCree latches immediately, getting to work worshipping Gabriel’s cock like it’s all he knows how to do. One hand wraps around the thick base of Reyes’ length while the other kneads at his muscular thigh, mussying the ironed fabric in his idle ministrations. </p><p>With no more kindness than what McCree would expect, Reyes gathers his loose hair into a neat ponytail and uses it to stuff his cock down his agent’s throat. Reflexively, McCree winces and gags but takes it eagerly, even leaning into the manhandling and allowing his throat to be used. Sighing deeply, Reyes can feel as he breaches Jesse’s throat, the tight anatomy of his body giving way in the obedience he has ingrained so deeply in every fiber of the cowboy’s being.</p><p>Words burn at the tip of his tongue, hotly expelled as a swear as McCree takes all that he’s given without so much as a whimper or whine. Holding him still, he watches as McCree’s eyes open and lock onto him, so innocent with sweet, shining eyes, wet with building tears as he lets all the air out through his nose—just as trained to do.</p><p>“Such- such a good wife, taking care of her husband,” he praises. Some of his ever-present composure, always crinkling in his brow and hardening his expression, is thrown to the wind in the wet heat of Jesse’s throat. Heat rises in his cheekbones at the obscenity of the situation; the string of drool dangling from the agent’s chin and the intoxicating slide of his head against the walls of McCree’s throat almost overwhelming to him. Not to mention the semi-public venue adding to the thrill. </p><p>His words earn a full-throated groan from Jesse, his fingers scratching for purchase on his thighs as the pilot presses his hips forward, forcing impossibly more of his cock into the too-tight hole. A desperate plead for a moment to accommodate takes the form of a huff through the nose, and Gabriel complies. </p><p>“Oh, <em> fuck </em>,” he swears as the cowboy’s throat restricts around him in a full swallow. The commander’s head falls back against the seat of the chair as he bites back a groan. “Do that again.”</p><p>Jesse does so happily, head clouded with the pleasure of servicing the older man. The minor stretch and ache of his throat doesn’t even register; all he cares is that he fulfills his duties as a faithful wife and satisfies the man sat in the chair, holding no regard for the way his own panties and skirt are soiled by his own cock’s eagerness. If he performs well, he’ll be rewarded with his own release. Always, his husband’s desires come first. </p><p>Still unable to completely engulf Reyes, his hand works the remaining length with deft ease. If nothing else, he knows how to bring Gabriel to release. Were it more private, he might savor the time used as a mere means for Reyes’ pleasure. </p><p>“You want my cum, huh?” Gabe murmurs, softened due to his awareness of the filth he’s spilling from his mouth. Any semblance of self-consciousness disappears when he sees the way McCree shifts and groans around him, damn near choking himself to tears as he attempts the full length. </p><p>The pilot leans forward slightly and his hand comes to rest lightly around the attendant’s throat, and a shudder tickles his back as he realizes how <em> deep </em> he is in his agent. Jesse’s throat readily accommodates his size, but it makes the feat no less impressive, regardless of if he’s swallowed the whole length or not. </p><p>Whining through his nose, McCree allows for Reyes to shove all but two inches of his impressive length into his throat. His lips are stretched far around the wide girth and his throat bulges outwards with his new burden. </p><p>Reyes’ hand no longer holds him in place, allowing for total reign over his commander’s cock. Immediately Jesse sets his own pace as fast and deep, even as it elicits weak gags and summons a ludicrous amount of spit to spill from his lips every time he pulls back to the tip. The sound is obscene because of it. Soft noises of his throat being used sound astonishingly loud within the cramped cockpit space, coupled with the little noises of exertion and pleasure coming from him—small whimpers and hiccups—as he swallows his commander.</p><p>Grunting, he pinches the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm before he cums ridiculously fast just from McCree’s mouth.  </p><p>“Look so pretty,” Reyes pants, lifting McCree’s jaw up and away from his cock, “look so <em> stupid. </em>”</p><p>McCree, a little dazed from the sudden break in pace, blinks up at Gabriel with half-lidded eyes and his tongue peaking out, panting lightly. The epitome of braindead, or perhaps just a little ditzy, McCree gazes up at him with blank expectation, leaning into Reyes’ palm. Sweeping his thumb over McCree’s bottom lip, slick with drool and reddened from work, he hums thoughtfully. Smearing the drool across his cheek, he easily jostles his body about as he runs his thumbpad across his molars. Well-trained, no longer biting and snapping as he used to be. </p><p>His little trained toy.</p><p>“C’mere,” Reyes says, more a coo than a command. McCree raises at once, albeit unsteadily. </p><p>“Turn.” </p><p>Reyes makes a show of gesturing, making a tight circling motion with his index. </p><p>Not wasting a moment, the attendant does, and even takes a half-step back, until the backs of his thighs meet the front of the pilot’s seat. Leaning forward and closing the distance, he easily pushes the back of McCree’s skirt up. Rumbling deep in his chest, akin to a predator over a hunk of meat, his rough hands grope and squeeze at McCree’s ass, massaging the supple muscle and spreading him open. </p><p>To his surprise, the ring of muscle already seems stretched, pink and pliant beneath Gabriel’s thick fingers. Tugging the ruined panties down unceremoniously, his spit-slick thumb toys with the attendant’s hole. </p><p>“Someone already fuck you?” he asks, voice low in a mix of possessiveness and irritation. They aren’t exclusive by any means, but the thought of McCree bending over for anyone but him makes animalistic greed rustle in his chest. Maybe they need to have a talk after this.</p><p>“No- no,” Jesse squeaks, not expecting him to be so forward, “got ready for you already. Thought you’d need me after the mission—”</p><p>The possessiveness is glossed over as his already-wet cock throbs in interest, painting the front of Jesse’s shirt with another rope of precum. Were he not already pinching the base of his cock, he would have spilled his load onto McCree’s uniform. </p><p>As he slides his own neatly-ruined boxers down to meet his hastily-turn-down slacks, his free hand toys with the weight of Jesse’s balls. They’re taught in anticipation, ready to spill at the slightest unexpected movement. </p><p>“Gonna spread your legs for your husband?” </p><p>“Jus’ fuck me— please,” Jesse whimpers. </p><p>Uncharacteristically gently, Reyes grasps either side of Jesse’s hips and watches the younger shiver in anticipation. </p><p>The pilot assures him with a gentle pat to the flank. Though Jesse has already prepared himself, he works his finger in first just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt him if things got rough. The way Jesse flexes and tightens around the digit instinctively drives Reyes mad. </p><p>In the absence of Gabriel’s hand holding him open, McCree takes initiative himself; spreading himself, he leans back as though presenting to the commander. A huff, and Reyes shifts to take his cock into his hand, tapping the head gently against the younger’s exposed hole. </p><p>“Ready?”</p><p>“Please,” he huffs.</p><p>“So sweet when you’re getting a cock stuffed in your cunt,” he teases, thumb still under the head of his cock. Slowly, he coaxes the younger back by the hip until the tip of his length pops in. Each of them vocalize their pleasure as Reyes breaches his tight heat. He removes the thumb once the tip is safely buried in the cowboy, but gives him a chance to get used to the pressure before continuing. </p><p>Chewing his lower lip, McCree braces himself on the arms of the pilot seat, allowing himself to be eased down into his commander’s lap. While he had prepared himself prior, it has been a few hours, and he can feel the slight ache of stretch as Gabriel feeds his length into Jesse’s hole. At his thickest, McCree chokes on a groan and reflexively tightens, spurring Reyes’ buck his hips and sheathe himself in one fluid motion.</p><p>“You like when I  stretch you?” Reyes breathes out, easing McCree down until his full weight is settled in his lap, back flush to his chest. Situated, sitting regal atop his throne, McCree squirms—and Reyes stills him. It ekes a gasp out of him as he’s pressed impossibly deep into his guts.</p><p>“Y-yeah… yessir,” Jesse says breathily, head swimming in his bliss causing him to nearly forget his manners. Allowing the other man to handle his full weight, he reclines against the pilot and holds his skirt out of the way so that both of them could watch between his legs. His own cock drooled pathetically in the crease of his hip, achingly hard. It twitches and spills as Reyes shallowly rocks into him, sighing against his shoulder.</p><p>“So tight,” Reyes says, almost grits through his teeth as he constrains his movements to  being slow and gentle. Taking McCree beneath the knees and lifting him up, enough that only half of his cock stayed warmed by McCree’s hole, Reyes braces the other arm across his agent’s chest. </p><p>Groaning shakily, McCree’s eyes slide open from where he had been squeezing them shut, trying not to cum too soon from Reyes perfectly milking his sweet spot with the gentle grinding. He would never hear the end of it if he managed to cum entirely untouched just from sucking Reyes’ cock and having his hole stretched. He collects his hands close to his chest, not sure what to do with them as Reyes takes full control over his body.</p><p>Bracing his feet on the ground, Reyes pumps his hips up, calculated and steady. It’s gentle but rough, jostling the attendant’s entire body with the force of Reyes’ hips meeting his. Trying his hardest to keep his volume down lest the passengers near the front of the plane catch something they’re not supposed to, he covers his mouth with his palm, teething the skin and panting noisily with each thrust. Little expletives are lost between them as Reyes strokes deep and slow.</p><p>Gabriel hides his face in the heat of McCree’s neck as he gets lost in the waves of pleasure crashing down on them. As much self-awareness as their job requires, he finds it hard to care how much noise they’re making as he takes out his frustrations on the agent; all he can think about is draining his balls in his wife. It’s what he lives for in this moment—breeding his trophy wife—not the mission, nor the repercussions of the mission failure, nor the fact that there’s suddenly another person in the room. </p><p>He pauses. </p><p>A shock of red hair and the shocked face of an agent register in the limited higher-functioning brain that he has left. The blood has to come from somewhere. God damn it. </p><p>“Moira, I—“ he begins, but he’s required to silence himself lest he cry out as Jesse seats himself fully on his cock again, as though it would protect their dignity at all. He clears his throat to buy time to come up with <em> some </em> excuse—but what excuse <em> is </em> there for railing an agent during a mission-in-progress?</p><p>“—was just relieving stress.”</p><p>“I see,” she says, turning her head a near ninety degrees to avoid so much as catch a peripheral glance at whatever Reyes and McCree have going on. “I was just wondering where Agent McCree went, but I suppose that’s my question answered.”</p><p>“Great. Yes, he’s here with me. Some privacy?”</p><p>“My mistake. I’ll need help tending to passengers soon.”</p><p>“He’ll be out soon. Won’t you, Jesse?”</p><p>Cheeks burning with a cocktail of emotions, all the agent can do is nod and pray that Moira can’t see the way his body twitches around Reyes’ girth. Mean—cruel—making him respond on his own as he’s getting the ride of his life. </p><p>“She can’t hear you nod, McCree.”</p><p>“Yeah—yes,” he breathes, trying to sound as normal as possible as he’s hyper-aware of every shift and twitch inside his guts. “Right out.”</p><p>“Just a... few more minutes while I finish briefing him.”</p><p>“Right,” Moira sighs, vanishing again before Reyes could scold her for the attitude. </p><p>Where he expected Jesse’s cock to have lost some interest from the intrusion, it has instead flushed an even deeper red at the tip and is actively drooling. The slightest stimulation would be enough to knock the agent over the edge, and the way his thighs tremble betray that fact plainly. </p><p>“You like showing ‘em how I fuck you? How I stretch you open and make you mine?”</p><p>“Sir, wanna cum,” he whines, hole fluttering as Reyes shifts to relax in his chair again. </p><p>“I know you do.”</p><p>“Move— please.”</p><p>“So polite with a cock up your ass.”</p><p>With a pitiful whine from the agent, Gabriel punches his hips forward again. </p><p>A little gasp is elicited with the force of his thrust, and McCree quickly throws a palm against Reyes’ thigh. For a moment, Gabriel thinks that he’s done something wrong to warrant a sudden stop, but as he goes to ask if everything was alright, McCree starts to rearrange himself. Shifting just so, McCree takes back control of his body to collect his knees beneath himself as best as he can in the limited space of the cabin seat.</p><p>“T-there,” McCree murmurs, almost bashful, as he throws a glance back at his commander. Settling on his haunches, his legs quiver as he stuffs himself with cock. It makes his back arch effeminately, and as Reyes spreads him open to get a good look at the mess he’s making of McCree’s hole, he tilts forward and bunches the skirt up at the side to present himself in full. </p><p>“So good for me, Jess” Reyes says, voice husky as he sweeps his thumb around his puffy rim, watching it react. The younger takes the praise in stride, rolling onto his knees—all the way until just the tip remains caught by his greedy body—before falling back. It punches a moan out of his chest, deep and guttural, and he shakily repeats the action until he’s bouncing. </p><p>Shaking the pilot seat where it’s bolted to the cabin floor, Reyes takes full advantage of the advanced AI system to sit back and let his agent ride him. Splaying his legs, fisting McCree’s blouse and freeing it from where it had been neatly tucked into his skirt, he offers nothing but rough breaths and gravelly groans as heat twists in his gut. He wasn’t lying when he said it’d only be a few more minutes—the way McCree is working him, hole milking him with each bounce, he isn’t going to last much longer. </p><p>“Shit,” Reyes bites, using his leverage on McCree’s blouse to pull him back down with force, “should knock you up.” </p><p>The breath leaves McCree in a tight whine, wheedling and pleading as he’s forced to take Reyes’ entire length on every stroke. It’s almost dizzying, how deep his commander is in his guts, eyes rolling back as Gabriel takes charge and gives it to him. </p><p>“Yeah, you want that?” Reyes pants, fucking into him now, “think you’re good enough to carry my kid?” His pace is merciless, keeping McCree steady to drive into his now-pliant hole. Wide hands hold his hips still, squeezing hard enough for him to feel even as he walks through the aisles—if he wouldn’t be distracted by Reyes’ load.</p><p>“Yes—” McCree keens, panting in whistling notes as he lets his commander take him, “please—<em> sir! </em> ” He is so close, Reyes tangling his guts and coiling his stomach in knots, drawing tighter as he hurtles towards his end. His cock has long since stained the underside of his skirt, just <em> barely </em>showing through the heavy fabric despite his best efforts to ruin himself on Reyes’ cock.</p><p>“Course you are.”</p><p>The magnitude of the praise is dizzying, as is the guttural growl-groan that signals Gabriel’s finale in his ear. He’s good enough to carry his kid, and Reyes is finishing inside of him to prove it. <em> Fuck.  </em></p><p>Never before has he been able to truly feel his partner pump into him, filling his hole with seed, but the commander’s girth stretches and borderline-overwhelms him as he fucks into his wife with spurt after spurt of cum. All the while, he has all but scruffed him with his clothes, holding him tight as he floods him. </p><p>Without exaggeration, the agent sees stars as Reyes gives him all of his usable length in one final stroke, and his own cock gives in. Painting his chest and the floor, he has no choice but to make a mess, uncontrolled by a helping hand. Gabriel, in his dopamine-clouded state, is proud that he did finally get Jesse to cum hands free, something the other boasted about having never done before. Serves him right for being so smug. </p><p>The pilot gradually softens his grip on McCree’s uniform, more focused on the faint ripples of pleasure as the agent’s abused hole flutters around his cock. For once, he’s able to see the softer, fucked-out side of his agent, subdued and tamed. Domesticated. </p><p> </p><p>They sit in loaded silence for a few beats, reveling in the other’s anatomy. Even deflating, Gabriel’s cock borders on overwhelming, as evidenced as Jesse occasionally shifts around to get comfortable again. Despite Reyes’ efforts to pull out, the smaller man whines as soon as he begins to move. </p><p>“Makin’ sure it takes,” Jesse coos after a halfhearted noise of disgruntlement. </p><p>“Fuck,” he swears. </p><p>Maybe Gabriel could be used to a steady hole to fuck, even if he’s uncertain he could stomach a proper relationship to go along with it. For Jesse, he could probably work something out. </p><p>“They don’t call you a cowboy for nothing, huh?”</p><p>“Cowgirl,” Jesse says, still lost to the scene. </p><p>“Mm. Cowgirl,” Gabriel corrects. He reaches up in an uncharacteristic moment of tenderness to run his fingers through McCree’s hair.</p><p>Closing his eyes in a slow blink, McCree moves into the contact sweetly, nuzzling the palm and humming happily. He forgets the rest of the world for a little while, content to sit and cockwarm his husband, fantasizing about how he’ll surely get knocked up given how much seed was pumped into him. </p><p>Reyes smiles, just a small quirk of the lips, and wraps his arms around McCree’s midsection to give a healthy squeeze. It ekes the breath out of him, and then a light chuckle as he layers his arms over Reyes’. Intertwining their fingers together, Jesse takes Reyes’ hand and settles it over his stomach, encouraging him to pet the natural swell of his body in short, slow strokes. McCree’s mind is seemingly full of air and infatuation as his head lulls back over Reyes’ shoulder to peer at him with big, doe-brown eyes. </p><p>“Should do this more,” Jesse mumbles, searching between Gabriel’s eyes. He puffs a soft laugh.</p><p>“If all it takes to make you this soft and obedient is a good breeding,” Reyes says, watching how color rises to McCree’s cheeks at his blunt words, “then I think I can do that.” While still fully seated in his lap, Reyes starts to straighten McCree's uniform- tucking his blouse back in and straightening any wrinkles out, retying his bow, and adjusting his stockings. “Besides,” he says as he tucks McCree back into his panties with a loving stroke, “gotta make sure that it takes. Else we gotta keep trying.”</p><p>McCree nods slowly, blushing furiously. Reyes smirks and pats his flank. As much as he wants to sit here for the rest of the ride and revel in McCree’s heat keeping him content, he can’t keep the attendant holed away in the cabin forever. With the mission over before it began, they have an entire day and night to themselves in a seaside hotel before the earliest dropship can fly them out. There will be plenty more time for them to invest in each other’s company before having to return to normalcy.</p><p>Despite the objecting whine, Reyes easily lifts his agent up off his softened cock and helps the shaky-legged attendant stand upright. No longer stuffed full, some of Gabriel’s cum tries to escape, only to be pushed back in with Reyes’ thumb. It garners a soft gasp, McCree’s hole taking it despite the embarrassment. The pilot fixes his panties like nothing happened, giving a little pat to Jesse’s ass before pulling his skirt down. </p><p>“Good girls do their job. Moira’s waiting on you.”</p><p>“Yessir,” McCree says, throwing a glare over his shoulder at his commander for the patronizing pat. Trying to relax and get his legs back in full working order, he shyly leaves the pilot’s cabin with nervous eyes darting between the front-most passengers. Somehow, it seems as though their little break was largely unnoticed, save for Moira and another attendant that shoots him jealous looks whenever he walks past.</p><p>Some of Reyes’ load leaks out of him despite the extra measures gone to ensure that he stays full, ruining his black panties and reminding him with every step that the flight is another half hour before landing. Even with each step uncomfortable and nagging,  he stands a little straighter and walks a little more confidently than he did before christened as his commander’s wife. </p><p>Moira, however, somehow manages to fit even more contempt into her smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
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